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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29704554">Parking Ticket</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohofcourse/pseuds/ohofcourse'>ohofcourse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunter X Hunter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, illumi is just so stressed, lawyer illumi zoldyck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:00:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29704554</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohofcourse/pseuds/ohofcourse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Illumi is an overworked lawyer trying to wrestle Killua and the rest of the Zoldyck siblings from his parents on the grounds of child abuse. Hisoka has to get himself in there, naturally.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>228</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. No One Actually Knows What Hisoka Does for a Living</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've had this sitting in the drafts for a while and I actually really like this story, plus I have an ending already written. This doesn't mean I'm abandoning any of my other fics!! just thought i'd throw this out here :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Killua lifted his odd little beetle phone and frowned. He and Gon had matching ones. Hisoka had always wondered if Killua had a real IPhone that he just didn’t tell Gon about. He wouldn’t be surprised. He couldn’t see Killua’s mother allowing him to traverse the city with nothing but a plastic phone decorated with faded smiley face stickers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My brother’s here,” Killua groaned, tucking his phone back into his pocket. It left an awkward, round lump in his shorts. Gon wailed, throwing himself over the couch, distraught. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Killuaaa! Come sleepover this weekend!” Gon grabbed his friend’s arms and jumped up and down, once, twice, three times. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, I will,” Killua said, rescuing his arm from Gon and blushing faintly. He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced once at Hisoka. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Kay, bye Gon, bye Hisoka,” Killua said wistfully. Gon and Hisoka followed him out the door. Hisoka was oddly curious what Killua’s brother looked like. He had met both of the parents already. They did not like Gon’s quaint, rural house on the cliff by the sea. It was difficult to get to in their fancy cars with low suspensions and expensive paint jobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka was not surprised to see a dark blue Bentley parked neatly in the driveway. A tall man in an immaculate black suit was standing there on his phone. He had long, silky, black hair, and the darkest eyes Hisoka had ever seen. He looked like a dream creature Gon would cry about at night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Illumi!” Killua shouted, waving an arm. “Hisoka, Gon, and I made cookies!” He bounded down the steps of the house’s entrance to where Illumi was standing. Slowly, dark, soulless eyes lifted to stare at Killua. They flitted to Gon. Then, they finally landed on Hisoka. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the babysitter?” He sounded dubious. Hisoka grinned, brushing his hand through his hair. Red hair, the color of wine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I watch over Gon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” There was a beat of silence. A breeze ruffled Illumi’s wonderful hair, sending it fluttering around his face. Hisoka had the feeling that for all his posturing, Illumi was a bit younger than he was, and he was usually right about these things. There was always a tangible dynamic that Hisoka could sniff out. He wondered if Illumi noticed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we going back to their house?” Killua asked carefully. Hisoka saw Illumi tense. The shoulders of his suit coat lifted slightly, and then he breathed out--Hisoka did not miss the way his chest swelled, straining the buttons of his crisp white shirt, just before it collapsed again. Even his breathing was gorgeous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are,” Illumi bit out, emphasizing the </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>as if it were venomous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright? You look ill.” Killua was just pushing his buttons on purpose now, Hisoka could tell. Killua was good at that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned, sliding his weight from the ball of one foot to the other. He and Illumi looked absolutely nothing alike. There was none of that cheeky boyishness in Illumi, and none of that sleek intensity in Killua. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older sighed, quiet but heavy. Most of what he did seemed quiet, as if he was paranoid of being overheard.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go, Killua. I have a conference call in twenty minutes. I would like to get out of the… countryside before I have to call in.” He spoke more than he looked like he should, talking with a leisure that suggested no one had ever told him to shut up before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gon openly glared at Illumi as he slipped back into the car. Hisoka couldn’t remember the last time Gon displayed blatant hostility towards anyone like that. They hadn’t known each other all that long, but it seemed out of character. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Killua waved goodbye, but it was cavalier. He would be back within the week, so there was no need for a tearful departure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blue Bentley purred to life and Illumi gunned it, careening down the driveway and kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake. Hisoka watched him go until the car disappeared around the bend of a turn. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as Killua was gone, Gon deflated a little. Even his spiky hair sagged at the ends. He skipped aimlessly back to the house, feet dragging a little more than usual. It was nearing dusk, Hisoka noted, staying back to watch the sun dip over the trees. They would have to make dinner soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found Gon in the kitchen already, standing on a stool so he could stir a pot with a wooden spoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the deal with Killua’s brother?” Hisoka forced himself to sound casual, leaning his weight on one arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which one? Illumi?” Gon was trying to make pasta. Hisoka was trying to help. Neither of them were doing a very good job. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Illumi,” Hisoka confirmed. Gon made a face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like him.” Hisoka could understand that. Something about Illumi reminded him of the reef sharks they kept in aquariums, slightly beautiful, slightly plain, slightly terrifying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s scary, and he’s too intense, and he tells Killua what to do, all the time.” Hisoka wondered if Gon knew that kids being told what to do was normal. That he just happened to live a disturbingly loose-reined life in which his aunt let him frolic through expansive forests and chase possibly disease-infested animals. Killua being given a bedtime probably seemed authoritarian compared to what Gon was used to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, Hisoka wasn’t an idiot. He knew that Killua’s family had issues--the parents at least. Hisoka was excellent at reading people, and Silva and Kikyo Zoldyck had given him lots of material. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does he live at the Zoldyck Estate?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he has a brownstone in the city.” Hisoka was surprised that Gon knew what a brownstone was. He was even more surprised that Illumi did not live with his parents. The Zoldyck family was notorious for being almost tribal in their togetherness. Silva and Kikyo did not like their children to leave the nest.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you been there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once,” Gon said with a shrug, “after he sued Killua’s parents for custody.” Hisoka dropped the wooden spoon into the pot of boiling pasta. Gon tried to rescue it and burned himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He has custody of Killua? I didn’t know that.” Gon nursed a burnt thumb. Hisoka turned on the water faucet and stuck Gon’s hand under the cool water, before turning to the freezer and handing him an ice cube. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold it against your thumb for a minute,” Hisoka ordered. Gon pressed the ice against his skin and let out a little sigh of relief. He continued on like nothing had happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he just sued for custody. They’re still in the middle of the “suing” or whatever. That’s what Killua said. I don’t really know how it works. But, Illumi’s a lawyer. He does… international… arb--arib--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“International arbitration?” Hisoka offered. Gon snapped his fingers, the unburned ones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka considered this for a moment. The Zoldyck family had so many fingers in so many pies that the origin of their wealth was hazy. Conspiracy theorists insisted they made money off highly illegal activity. The media liked to sensationalize them, and for good reason. They were a good-looking, very rich pack, and now, their eldest son was going rogue. Hisoka had no doubt that if he opened his Twitter on any given day, there would be a good chance that the Zoldyck family would be trending one way or another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he dating someone?” Hisoka asked, grinning now. Gon gave him a proper glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he’s a creep, Hisoka.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a creep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re not,” Gon said, stirring the pasta cautiously now. “Besides, Illumi is bad news. He’s got problems with his dad--” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daddy issues, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hisoka thought dazedly. Gon didn’t know it, but he was selling Illumi almost too well. “--they fight all of the time. And he and his mom are even worse.” </span>
</p><p><em><span>Mommy issues</span></em><span>.</span> <span>That was the last straw. Hisoka needed to go home and light a candle and do terrible things to his tempurpedic pillow. </span></p><p>
  <span>“Why do they fight?” Hisoka asked, eyes closing. He needed a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on with you?” Gon asked suspiciously. The ice cube he was holding dripped onto the floor in a tiny dark puddle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll get it when you’re older,” Hisoka said sharply. He found himself saying that a lot around Gon. Maybe he needed to stop being himself so much. Gon shook his head, as if he was used to these things by now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway. Stay away from Illumi, he’s creepy and rude and anyone who hates their mother is not a good person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Killua hates his mom,” Hisoka pointed out. Gon turned red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Killua is different!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And they hate the same mom, so I feel like Illumi deserves a pass on that one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just want to kiss Illumi, stop defending him!” Oh, he did, he really, really did. He wanted to kiss Illumi </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He wanted Illumi to kiss him back.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m allowed to want to do things, Gon,” Hisoka chided. The pasta was boiling over. “Uh oh,” he said. Gon backed away, cowed by his recent burn. His back hit the opposite kitchen counter and he decided to hop up and sit on it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an adult, you should know how to make pasta,” Gon said, swinging his legs absently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re sounding more and more like Killua,” Hisoka said, frowning. He found the heat dial and turned the stove down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with sounding like Killua?” Gon asked. Hisoka did not have a response to that.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Also, if you want to woo Illumi--” Hisoka objected to that phrasing but he let Gon finish. “--you need to be nice to Killua. Illumi’s very protective.” This Illumi was checking boxes Hisoka didn’t even know he needed checked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to Killua,” Hisoka said absently. “Got it.” </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hisoka didn’t have to wait long for Illumi to reappear. He came to drop Killua off at Gon’s that Friday. This time, he was not in a suit, just black slacks and a dark turtleneck. A coat was draped over his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The babysitter,” he said. Killua and Gon scuttled up the stairs together, laughter fading. Killua had brought his skateboard and his Switch. They would be playing that obnoxious thing all night, Hisoka knew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?” Hisoka asked. He leaned his weight on the doorframe, something he thought would make him look cool. Illumi’s hair fluttered again from the wind--always fluttering, like a hair commercial--but this time, the direction of the breeze worked in Hisoka’s favor. He could smell his shampoo--it smelled cool and wet and sweet. Hisoka wanted to eat it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Illumi began warily. The question was a courtesy. Even if Hisoka hadn’t spoken to Gon that afternoon, he would know who Illumi Zoldyck was by now. News of the custody battle had hit the media. Illumi was being followed in black vans, now. His lovely face was plastered on the New York Times. Hisoka was almost jealous of his celebrity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a legal question,” Hisoka continued. Illumi grimaced. It was a startlingly human expression on his face. Hisoka wanted more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I can’t get you out of a speeding ticket,” Illumi said. Hisoka laughed. He liked to make a fool out of people. He couldn’t wait to see Illumi’s surprised face. He bet it was obscene. He bet it was the kind of face he would want to jerk off to, and onto.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, actually, I was wondering if you could help me out with an overseas vendor issue. I’m the CEO of Bungee. We’re a military-grade adhesives producer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were a babysitter,” Illumi nearly spat. He was doing a fairly admirable job of keeping his cool. Hisoka was disappointed. He wanted big, wet confused eyes and stuttering. All he got was Illumi running a tongue over his teeth and staring him down like he had just insulted him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just like hanging out with Gon,” Hisoka said with a shrug. It was more complicated than that. Aunt Mito had been one of his earliest employees at Bungee. She often brought Gon with her to the office, back when Hisoka worked on the same floor as his staff. He grew attached to Gon, and Gon did the same with him. It wasn’t his fault that Illumi assumed he was a sitter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was that a no about the vendor issue?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tariffs aren’t really my speciality,” Illumi said, which sounded like a total lie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t be good at everything, I suppose.” Hisoka said it sweetly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi’s eyes narrowed. He reached into the coat he had on his arm and whipped out a business card. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me a call. I’m not taking on any clients at the moment, but I have subordinates at the firm I could delegate you to.” For the first time since arriving, Illumi smiled, the smile of a person who really liked their job. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Hisoka said, staring down at the card. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Illumi Zoldyck. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The name stared back at him, the embossed ink glinting slightly in the sun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Illumi said, taking a quick look at his phone and sighing. “Well, I’ve got to go. Bye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he was out of earshot, Hisoka laughed breathlessly to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi was sitting in his car, the engine idling, typing on his phone. A strand of his hair fell in front of his face, and with a little wrinkle of his nose, he gathered his hair, twisted it, and shoved a fancy-looking pen into it, holding the knot in place. Hisoka didn’t realize people actually did that in real life. He thought that was just what librarians did in movies, and in porn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi would do excellent in porn. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hisoka!” Killua shouted from upstairs. “Can we go outside?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Hisoka said at a normal volume. He heard two pairs of small feet thunder down the stairs. They were both dressed for the weather. Gon was wearing a green sweatshirt and brown pants with the ends tucked into his socks. Killua was in black pants and a purple sweatshirt, a flashlight held between his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye!” Gon shouted. Killua waved and gargled out something between the flashlight in his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka leaned back into the nursing chair he was curled up on and flipped open his laptop. He always brought it, thinking he would get work done, but the combination of Gon and Killua, and his own lack of work ethic, always meant he left it untouched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight, he had other plans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only needed to type </span>
  <em>
    <span>ill </span>
  </em>
  <span>before Illumi’s full name popped up on his browser. Below that, there was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Illumi Zoldyck abuse, Illumi Zoldyck Killua, Illumi Zoldyck Kikyo, Illumi Zoldick Silva, Illumi Zoldyck lawyer. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hisoka tapped his bottom lip and clicked just his full name. He would start out with the basics. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi had a wikipedia page. He also had a website, for his firm, of which he was already a partner. His wiki page said that he was twenty four, but he had graduated university at the age of nineteen, a prodigy of sorts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been homeschooled most of his life. He went to an expensive boarding school for one year before his parents pulled him out and resumed schooling him with their army of private tutors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A month ago, Illumi had declared his intention of taking Killua into his custody, after accusing his parents and grandfather of child abuse on multiple accounts. The media had gone insane. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Hisoka switched to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Images, </span>
  </em>
  <span>most of the photos of Illumi, he saw, were taken by paparazzi. He was intensely private, avoiding most of the galas and functions his family attended, save for the incredibly exclusive ones. There were a few photos of him from boarding school and some more from Milluki’s instagram. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One photo in particular caught Hisoka’s eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Milluki was standing proudly in front of an obscenely extravagant wall of computer monitors, an anime body pillow propped up to the side. Various expensive collectible figurines decorated his desk. A six-foot-tall Kaws statue appeared halfway into the frame. And Illumi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sitting on Milluki’s chair, feet propped up on the desk. He wore dark blue Lululemon shorts that stopped at mid-thigh and a muscle tee. His hair was pulled up in a high, slick ponytail. He was on his phone, lips pursed, brows furrowed. It was from seven years ago. He had been seventeen at the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was disturbing, however, were the marks around his wrists and the bruises up his neck. The large holes in the arms of his top revealed a bit of lateral muscle and rib cage, and Hisoka could see the shadow of a yellowing bruise there. Milluki had taken the photo down, but the screenshot, showing about sixty-thousand likes, had been spread about the internet regardless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka found a shoddily written tabloid article about the photo. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Child Abuse Happening Behind the Doors of the Zoldyck Estate? </span>
  </em>
  <span>The title read. Hisoka didn’t bother reading it. It looked like it had no information he didn’t already know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of the legitimate articles about Illumi were regarding his work as a lawyer. He was apparently very respected in the tight circle of his work. “Ruthlessly efficient,” a colleague at his firm had said of him in a profile. The rest were clinical reports on the ongoing case between him and his parents, or more of the trashy sensationalism that painted Illumi as either a presence of great evil, or a trembling victim. Hisoka could not really see Illumi as either, though he supposed he would have to get to know him better to find out how true that was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka ran the well dry after another hour of perusing. There was nothing regarding past relationships. Hisoka would definitely not be surprised to find out Illumi simply didn’t engage in those kinds of things, though he very much hoped he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re back!” Gon shouted as he kicked through the door. “We found a bird!” Hisoka closed his laptop and stretched out with a sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it in the sky?” Hisoka asked, twisting his head to find two very muddy boys dripping in the foyer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was on the ground! He’s a baby!” Killua pulled a real baby bird from his sweatshirt pocket. Hisoka groaned, head falling back against his char. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to put it back, Gon. Your aunt is going to kill me if she sees that. And Killua, I have a feeling your brother would not let u keep it.” Killua grimaced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably not.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we have to help it!” Gon shouted, eyes wide and determined. Hisoka eyed the clock above the doorway. It was nearly nine pm. He sighed over-exaggeratedly, smirking a little as Gon cheered in delight, obviously knowing he had already been won over.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Killua, get a cardboard box and shred some newspaper, lots of newspaper. Gon, grab the desklamp from your aunt’s craft room, and the heat lightbulb from your dead lizard’s habitat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He died?” Killua gasped suddenly, blue eyes going wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The day you left,” Gon admitted miserably. He had buried the thing in Aunt Mito’s flower garden out front. Hisoka fought back the urge to snort. He learned the hard way that the boys did not share his casual indifference for the lives of random garden lizards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boys returned with the things Hisoka asked of them and they placed the tiny, rain-drenched bird in the pile of newspaper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get tissues! To make it softer!” Killua hissed to Gon. Tissues were added promptly. Hisoka fixed the bulb to the desk lamp and hung it over the box. A warm, red glow illuminated the two boys’ faces. The bird’s wings flapped weakly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, now go shower and leave me alone. I saved your silly bird.” </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>A blue Bentley and a white Bentley were idling in the driveway. The rain hadn’t abated since Friday. The driveway was submerged under at least two inches of murky brown water. Illumi was standing outside of his car, holding a black umbrella over his head. He wasn’t in a suit, but that made sense. It was a Sunday morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silva Zoldyck flung open the door of his car and took the umbrella offered to him by his driver. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Father and son stood on either side of the driveway, separated by some invisible chasm. Killua stiffened like a rabbit as he saw them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh oh,” Gon muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Kikyo stepped out of the car. Killua buried his face in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s going to be a fight,” he said, muffled. Hisoka was used to Killua’s cheekiness, but this time, he seemed serious. Kikyo stomped through the rain and stood right in front of her son. He had a head of height on her, easily, but Hisoka did not miss the slight way he shrank. Hisoka could see where Illumi got his looks. Now that he and his mother were face-to-face, their similarities in appearance became hyper-clear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi was wearing black sweatpants, and a black sweatshirt, and a Moncler raincoat, and he was staring at his mother with a mixture of apprehension and disdain. Illumi pulled off the sweatsuit look amazingly well. Hisoka found himself a bit jealous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hisoka, do something!” Gon urged, tugging on his sleeve. He had Killua in an iron grip with his other hand, preventing his friend from going outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want me to do?” Hisoka asked incredulously. “Besides, what’s going to happen if I--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of the slap rang like gunfire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the wide, open land that Gon’s house sat in, noises like that traveled far, even during the rain. Illumi’s pale cheek was bright pink now, dark red and white around the edges where Kikyo’s rings had made contact. He had not moved from his spot on the driveway, his tall, lean figure like a lonely lamppost on a highway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kikyo trembled, as if the slap had exerted her. Silva watched from the hood of his car, the umbrella casting shadows over his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Illumi won’t hit Mother back,” Killua said tightly, his mirth totally gone now, “but if Father steps in, there’s going to be a fight.” Well, that was his cue. Hisoka grabbed the yellow umbrella from the basket by the door, and shoved his feet into a pair of slippers that were much too small. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning!” He crowed, making his way down the driveway. Illumi’s head turned impercibtly towards him, and he saw him sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” Kikyo demanded shrilly. Hisoka was a little offended. They had met before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The babysitter,” Illumi said flatly. There was a cut on his cheek bone, with bruised, bloody skin just around it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re Hisoka Morrow,” Silva said. Hisoka smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup,” he agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He owns Bungee, dear,” Silva said to Kikyo. Her frantic eyes narrowed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing babysitting?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He and Gon are friends,” Illumi said, with the same disdain as his mother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just came out here to ask which one of you was taking the child?” Hisoka interrupted politely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am,” Illumi said shortly. Kikyo laughed, exasperated and strained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he is absolutely not. You’re ruining him, Illumi. Utterly ruining him. I will not have your </span>
  <em>
    <span>weakness </span>
  </em>
  <span>and--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kikyo, enough,” Silva said suddenly, eyeing Hisoka with suspicion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s dragging our family name through the mud, darling! And for what? What on earth is this going to accomplish, you rotten, ungrateful--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kikyo,” Silva said again. Illumi was as still as stone, his dark, indifferent eyes watching his parents like they were characters in a television show. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Illumi,” Silva said with a sigh, approaching his son with his hands outstretched. Hisoka did not miss the way Illumi tensed and shifted backwards, until his hip bumped into the door of his car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silva leaned in so his mouth was nearly pressed against Illumi’s ear. If it had been anyone else, Hisoka probably could have gathered the context of what Silva was saying based on Illumi’s reaction, but he was as stony as usual. The only indication he was bothered was the way his hands flexed against his thighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Silva was done, he pulled away, smiling in self-satisfaction. Illumi was white in the face but his expression was otherwise cool.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Killua!” Kikyo screeched. Illumi watched, face impassive, as Killua slunk from the house and went straight into the back of his parents’ car. Gon peered from the front door with a pinched face and worried eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The white Bentley drove way with a splash of brown, cold water. Illumi stood in the rain, his umbrella held with one pale hand, and watched them go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Illumi,” Hisoka called carefully. “Why don’t you come inside and get your face properly looked at.” Blood was dripping down his cheek like a tear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, no, I’ll be going.” Hisoka slid himself in front of the grill of Illumi’s car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I insist.” He met Illumi’s eyes and was shocked by what he found. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked utterly exhausted. His usually unaffected face, which had graced many tabloid magazines and newspapers, was fraught with the kind of weariness that took a long time to develop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come inside,” Hisoka repeated, splaying his fingers out on the hood of Illumi’s Bentley, a subtle gesture that said he would not be allowing Illumi to drive away until he had agreed. It seemed Illumi had had enough of stand offs today, because with nothing more than a blink, he said, “Fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gon was apprehensive when Illumi walked in. He was wearing pajamas that Hisoka realized with a jolt, belonged to Killua. Illumi sniffed but said nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are they going to hit Killua, too?” Well, there it was. Black eyes met glimmering brown ones. For a moment, Hisoka felt out of place, like he had walked in on something inappropriate. And Hisoka rarely felt like he was being inappropriate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think, Gon?” Illumi’s voice was icy, frustrated, and loveless. Gon shrank back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should have tried harder,” he bit out, eyes fixed on the floor. “You should have fought back.” Without waiting to see Illumi’s response, Hisoka fetched the first aid kit Aunt Mito kept in the kitchen, for when Gon inevitably injured himself. He pulled out an alcohol wipe and approached Illumi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can do it,” he said firmly, taking the wipe and dabbing his cheek. Blood soaked through it immediately. He fixed his gaze back to Gon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t seem to get it. The court case begins in two weeks. I have to prove I am a suitable guardian for Killua. I can’t be caught getting in fistfights with my father in the rain. And I shouldn’t have fucking visible bruises on my face like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>convict.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Gon huffed and folded his arms, tears coming to his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to go get him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They won’t do anything too damaging. They might not even touch him. My concern is not with how Killua will fare for this next week. It’s how his life will be for the next six years.” Gon seemed cowed by his answer. He hiked the pants of his pajamas up, so he didn’t step on the hems, and thundered up the stairs to his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi and Hisoka were left in the kitchen, with the lights casting a dim orange glow, and the rain pattering against the windows. Though it was nearly noon, the sky was dark, almost black. It felt as though time had lost lineation. Hisoka peeled the back off a small band aid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can do it,” Illumi said stiffly, tucking his hair behind his ears. With the cuts cleaned, it became clear that Kikyo had been wearing three different rings, and the ensuing bruise was already starting to flower, from brow to temple to cheekbone.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure,” Hisoka purred. He gently pressed the bandaid to Illumi’s cheek. Illumi’s mouth twitched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All this for some legal help?” Hisoka couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Illumi didn’t seem like the kind of person who made jokes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who knows when I’ll get a speeding ticket,” Hisoka said with a grin. Illumi stared at his teeth with little subtlety, eyes fixing on the sharp ends of his canines. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should be going,” Illumi said after a moment. He pushed himself off the kitchen counter with a little sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for…” and he made an indifferent gesture with his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Good luck with your impending court case.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” With little more than a brusque nod, Illumi gathered his umbrella and his coat and strode out of the house like it had been a particularly unsatisfying business meeting. Hisoka watched him go with a little sigh. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Illumi Pitches his Tent in the Wrong Clearing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The closest thing to Hisoillu angst that I am capable of writing these days</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Kurapika!” Hisoka sang into the phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s very early, Hisoka,” Kurapika groaned with barely-concealed irritation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They weren’t really friends, but they seemed to swim in vaguely the same direction, just enough to be of use to each other sometimes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s urgent,” Hisoka whined. Over the line, Kurapika sighed like he was old and Hisoka’s phone beeped. Kurapika had hung up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only had to wait a minute, however, for his phone to ring again, but this time, with a facetime call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He answered it and Kurapika’s tired face filled his screen. He was sitting in his office, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Precariously-stacked books seemed to be bowing towards each other, covering up hard-working sconces that let out just enough light for the space not to be considered a dungeon. Four mugs were scattered around his workspace, as well as the ancient, frayed end of a phone charger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, you look very well-rested.” A lie. Kurapika looked like he hadn’t accessed his REM cycle in a fortnight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Kurapika demanded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a lawyer,” Hisoka said, smiling now. Kurapika gave him a look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you make glue.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a lawyer question, Kurapika. Don’t get snippy. Do you know Illumi Zoldyck?” There was a knock on the door of Kurapika’s office. A tall, tan man, sleepy, in blue boxers, stumbled into view of the camera and placed a cup of coffee in front of Kurapika. Utterly oblivious to Hisoka’s presence, he kissed the top of Kurapika’s head and shuffled out of view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurapika glared at Hisoka with slightly pink cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, of course I do. He’s in international arbitration, I’m a civil rights lawyer. We don’t exactly share office space.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because he makes a lot more money than you do,” Hisoka pointed out, just to watch Kurapika’s face crumple into a look of pure indignation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is a lot of </span>
  <em>
    <span>integrity </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the work that I do, Hisoka--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of office space, do you know where he works?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to ask him out,” Hisoka said, leaning back in his chair proudly. Kurapika made a face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t need to know that. And are you serious? He’s in the middle of a custody battle with his own parents, who are billionaires. Your timing couldn’t be worse.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to think I would be a welcome distraction.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Illumi doesn’t do that,” Kurapika said darkly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you know him?” Hisoka asked, perking up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve heard of him. He spent his first year as a lawyer doing his parent’s petty work, got sick of it, and started doing his own stuff. International arbitration is not always lucrative, but depending on your clients, it can be… huge. And Illumi has huge clients. He isn’t negotiating divorces here, he’s ensuring billion-dollar corporations don’t take countries to court, and vice versa. He used to do that for the Zoldyck’s, I think, but he… peeled off.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurapika took a long sip of coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My point here is that Illumi is not the kind of person who distracts himself with fun little flings, or unnecessary court cases. He’s suing his parents for Killua for a reason. He’s willing to suffer through the media attention for it. I don't think he’s going to want you leaving roses in his office right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kurapika sometimes surprised him with his scope of understanding; he was always the right amount of honest, like he was calibrated for it. Hisoka frowned. He thought suddenly of Illumi in blue shorts and a ponytail on Milluki’s instagram. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think they were that bad?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How would I know?” Kurapika asked, an eyebrow raised. “Look, I gotta go. But if you’re trying to… seduce Illumi, know what you’re getting into.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As always Kurapika, you are a star.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, stop calling me.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hisoka took Kurapika’s advice to heart, so he decided to wait a full twenty four hours before calling Illumi. Aunt Mito had returned to see to Gon so Hisoka was back in his own apartment, staring at his pallid reflection in the wall-to-ceiling windows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sort of hated his apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twenty four hours was way too long. Hisoka whipped out the business card and dialed the number that said </span>
  <em>
    <span>personal</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His assistant picked up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Illumi Zoldyck’s office, speaking?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hisoka Morrow, I wanted to--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mr. Zoldyck wants you using this number. Are you ready?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka blinked. This had to be his </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual</span>
  </em>
  <span> personal number. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rattled off a number and then Hisoka heard her smile through the phone, breathy, kind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that all?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Illumi told me he wasn’t taking clients right now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, well, Mr. Zoldyck has pressing personal matters, plus he’s already seeing to a pair of cases with the firm. So, yes, he’s not taking on any more at this time. But, he told me briefly about your situation with...uh, Bungee, is that correct?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can have other partners help you out. Just give us a call to set up a meeting.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So this number you gave me, it’s not--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the number he wanted you to have,” she said delicately, sort of amused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Hisoka said. He’d kind of thought his interest in Illumi had slipped under the radar, but apparently Illumi was more keen about these matters than he seemed. It was kind of relieving, discovering someone was more human than you thought they were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you very much,” Hisoka said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have a great day, Mr. Morrow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka stared at the number saved in his phone and then sent a simple text: </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hi Illumi its Hisoka </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to wait about an hour for a response. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Illumi: Legal questions all go through my work phone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hisoka: this isn’t a legal question </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Illumi: oh alright shoot</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>What did Hisoka even want to say? What was he brave enough to say? This wasn’t like his usual schemes, where he texted the person something a little vulgar, and either they were into it or they weren’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like Illumi was something precious, like he had something to lose.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hisoka was a weird texter, Illumi decided. He took a long time in between messages, which Illumi was sure was deliberate, and by the end of a thirty-minute conversation, which could have been ten minutes, if Hisoka had been prompt, he was itching with a sort of frustrated eagerness. He felt like a horse without enough rein. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wanna meet up for coffee ?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That had been Hisoka’s last text, sent about a minute ago. Illumi stared at it, and then thought of all the moving parts that required a coffee out in public: different clothes, texting his driver--or driving himself, but that wasn’t appealing, having to duck his head as the inevitable handful of people recognized him from all those stupid tabloid articles about him being disowned by his family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was never </span>
  <em>
    <span>disowned. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If anyone was doing any disowning, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A text on his phone interrupted his seething: Alluka, with a homework question. She texted him every so often about this stuff. Illumi was pretty sure she was perfectly capable of doing this herself, but he figured she thought it was soothing for him to be given a problem he could easily solve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t entirely wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi cycled through the long division in his head, keenly aware that his baby sister was making him the subject of some weird little experiment where she tried to find out how much control she had over his mental state. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>17, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he texted. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank uuuuu &lt;33333333  can we do something this weekend?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I bet ur super busy :(</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dont worry if u can’t, illu!! :’)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This weekend should be fine, I’ll talk to Kikyo about taking u somewhere. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Perfect :)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The sad part was that Illumi didn’t even mind the disturbingly masterful emotional manipulation she was putting him through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka’s text brought him back to earth a moment later. He sighed, ran his hand through his hair and then snatched it back. It was an annoying habit he was getting into. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi deliberated over a glass of two parts ice and one part coconut water. No matter how cold coconut water was, there was a slight viscosity to it that prevented it from being as startling cold as water could be, and it bothered Illumi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why did he still bother drinking it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The text he eventually sent to Hisoka was a little terse, and he felt bad: </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t leave the house, too busy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he followed it up with: </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re welcome to come to mine. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And then a third text, which he briefly considered would be a bit too much before he realized with almost hilarious clarity that he didn’t care: </span>
  <em>
    <span>i have coffee at my house</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
I have coffee at my house </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka found it very charming, Illumi’s simultaneous forwardness and coyness. He had already dressed for a coffee date, because he had assumed that’s where they would end up, but he figured a home date wouldn’t be much different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sort of wanted to ask Illumi what they’d be doing, as in, should he take another more thorough shower before leaving, but Illumi would probably be offended by that.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Heading over now!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi didn’t reply immediately which Hisoka brushed off. Besides, he kind of wanted to see an unprepared Illumi, knocked off his feet, so to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he got to Illumi’s address, he felt an odd sense of wonder come over him. Illumi’s neighborhood was an old, coveted area, where the trees were fully mature and instead of highrises, it was weathered brownstones from an Italianate era of architecture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had an actual </span>
  <em>
    <span>mailbox. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The house itself was in slight disrepair, a little emptier-looking than its neighbors. The little landscaping between the sidewalk and the front door was natural and overgrown. It was all very at odds with how Illumi presented himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So was the planter by the windowsill, filled with a dead mint plant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka found the intercom by the door and pressed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” There was a few seconds of silence. The house sounded empty. A pair of small brown terriers in the house next door were barking at him, their breath fogging up the glass of the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, the intercom crackled to life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Illumi was panting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I caught you in a compromising position?” Hisoka asked, leaning his weight against the stone wall. He could practically hear Illumi scowl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m working out. The code for today is 2778, once you’re inside, go down the stairs and you’ll see the door to the gym.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka paused in the foyer to get a proper look at the house. Much like the outside, the inside was not the polished sleek headquarters Hisoka had assumed Illumi lived in. Everything was older; a faded persian rug, the corner flipped over, dominated the first room in the house, which Hisoka took to be an attempt at a formal living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were two couches, matching tufted green fabric, and between them, a wood and iron coffee table with a glass top and an array of coffee table books, cups, a cardboard box that was absolutely case files. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was another rug in the hallway, a green and red and blue runner, which led into two other rooms, a kitchen and an even messier less-formal living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was both gratifying and disarming to see how Illumi lived: with this sort of chaotic carelessness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka took one last look at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves which were laughably underutilized, with most of the shelves holding only picture frames, and descended down the stairs, per Illumi’s instructions.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Illumi was kneeling--no, he was sitting on his heels, thighs spread wide, sweat dripping down his temples and soaking his shirt at the armpits and neckline. It was a position that, Hisoka believed, required some basic mastery of flexibility. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was wearing black running shorts that were slightly hiked up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka felt like all of this was some kind of perverted trap, made especially for perverts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, there you are,” Illumi said, still slightly breathless. He was on his phone, typing diligently. His hair was up in a high ponytail, but a few stands had come loose and were curled against his neck with sweat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up?” He asked, peering up at him finally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you sitting like that?” Hisoka asked. Illumi looked down at himself, at where his thighs were spread. His butt was resting on his heels. It didn’t look comfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s comfortable.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Well,” Hisoka continued, suddenly feeling faint. “I had a question.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the last time, Hisoka, legal questions go through my work phone. Do I look like I’m working right now?” Illumi gestured to himself and stared up at him blankly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a legal question,” Hisoka said. “It’s a personal question.” Illumi put his phone down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to go on a date with me?” The question hung in the air like the last note of a particularly exhilarating sonata. Illumi tightened his ponytail and stared up at Hisoka dubiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that what all this was? You coming to my house?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you mean right now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that’s when you would like it to be,” Hisoka said with a shrug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you I was too busy to go out today,” Illumi said slowly, skeptical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can do it another day. Coffee sounds good for today, but I wanted a real date, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you just want sex, because--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not sex, if you don’t want it to be sex. Just… a date.” Hisoka rocked forward on the balls of his feet and then rocked back. He felt awkward. He never felt awkward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I’m not that busy,” Illumi said to himself. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>do it now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He rubbed at his eye-socket as he thought. Hisoka stood in Illumi’s personal gym and felt his pride wither like a mint plant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Illumi put his phone down with a startling intensity and looked up at Hisoka, cheeks flushed, hair awry.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Let me shower and we can go.” He seemed determined, and excited, like he had made up his mind about something very big. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so you really did mean right now,” Hisoka said dazedly. Illumi sat up with impressive athleticism and stretched his arms overhead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No time like the present,” he said.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to go somewhere nice?” It was unnatural how quickly they had gone from awkward acquaintances to whatever it was they were now. Hisoka was sprawled on Illumi’s massive bed, barefoot, listening as Illumi showered with the door open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care,” Illumi shouted over the spray. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know a place that does good rabbit!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vile,” was his response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi’s bedroom was similar to the rest of his house, save that it was devoid of work. The books in his built-in shelving looked purely fictional. He had two mismatched lamps, both brass: one of the lamp bases was of a rabbit, rubbing at its face with a dainty paw, and the other was the head of a buck. Hisoka thought that they were very nice, likely the touch of an interior designer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a big polished mid-century credenza against the wall opposite his bed, and sitting on that was what Hisoka could only describe as a shrine to his family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was filled almost entirely with picture frames, interrupted ever so often with a child’s attempt at a sculpture or a homemade snow globe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of it was pictures however: pictures of him as a child and a teenager, sitting stoically on a settee with his siblings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was one of him looking very young, no older than twelve, with a puppy in his arms, and his father holding him in his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silva Zoldyck had never looked so young and soft-featured. The puppy was licking at Illumi’s face and he was laughing hysterically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The water suddenly shut off and like a fawn coming from a fog-shrouded treeline, Illumi emerged from the bathroom very gingerly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not snooping around, are you?” He asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like your lamps.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alluka and Kalluto got them for me. I think they’re kind of stupid.” Illumi didn’t say anything more on the subject before he disappeared into his closet. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hisoka absently sucked on the cinnamon candy he found in Illumi’s bedside drawer as Illumi changed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think it’ll rain?” Illumi asked, muffled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka shrugged, realized Illumi couldn’t see him, and let out a garbled no. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t even know where we’re going yet,” Hisoka added, more coherent this time. Illumi poked his head out, looking pretty much ready. He was wearing jeans, which Hisoka thought was cute. Jeans and sneakers and a brown sweater. He looked more like a twenty-four-year-old than Hisoka had ever seen him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one who asked me. Find a place.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess you don’t want to go somewhere nice, going by your outfit.” Illumi looked horrifically offended for a second, and Hisoka felt the blood drain from his face, but then a smile crept over his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, somewhere lowkey, please.” </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Illumi had leaned over Hisoka’s shoulder and watched him scroll through the nearby restaurants until one had caught his eye. He smelled impossibly good, and not necessarily like a cologne. It was more like a candle, just a good smell, unaggressive, unselfconscious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi had to grab something from the kitchen before they left, so Hisoka followed him down the stairs and sat on one of the stools at the big butcher-block island and watched as Illumi rooted around his drawers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a lot of stuff,” Hisoka said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka didn’t really know how to answer that. His usual style of flirtation was cloying: tease them until they got flustered, then pull back and sweep in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi was difficult in that he didn’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>get </span>
  </em>
  <span>flustered, or anything close to that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was giving Hisoka a mild low-grade headache. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Found it.” Illumi pocketed what Hisoka instantly recognized as a lighter and brushed by him as he left the kitchen. Hisoka ambled after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked down the street in amicable silence. Illumi seemed happy to tip his head upward and enjoy the waning sunlight. Hisoka was happy to watch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost alarming how different Illumi was when he was removed from his family. Gone was that thrumming herd-dog energy, that intense obsession. He just seemed like a regular twenty-something-year-old kid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you date a lot?” Illumi’s head tipped back down, swinging to look Hisoka in the eye as they walked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>date</span>
  </em>
  <span>, no,” Hisoka said cheekily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t either,” Illumi replied, missing the implication high and wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve never dated anyone? Ever?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I was young, I fooled around a bunch.” The thought of a teenage Illumi “fooling around” was a little funny. He couldn’t imagine it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Hisoka said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” Illumi chewed on that for a few minutes. The sun was starting to dip even lower in the sky. Hisoka wished he had brought a jacket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you do now?” He finally asked. Hisoka’s mouth twitched as he realized this was Illumi’s version of making conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I work,” Hisoka shrugged, though even as he said it, it felt disingenuous. “I hook up with people sometimes, when I feel like it. I hangout with Gon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gon,” Illumi said, voice going frigid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wants to go camping this winter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like camping,” Illumi admitted begrudgingly. Hisoka blinked at him. He was far beyond thinking Illumi was the high-maintenance trust fund brat he seemed to present himself as, but the admission was still surprising. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he could see it perfectly. It was almost like Illumi belonged somewhere wild and untouched, but he was forced to trudge through the city like a disgruntled big cat on a leash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t,” Hisoka said finally, “Like camping, I mean. But he really wants to go, so might as well.” Illumi looked at him sideways. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t like camping?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems pointless, doesn’t it? If I wanted to go outside, I could just go outside. I don’t need to sleep out there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The sleeping is the best part,” Illumi protested, whirling on him to face him. His eyes were wide, hair coming untucked from behind one ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever even gone?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really,” Hisoka said slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then you can’t know if you don’t like it.” Hisoka waited a few seconds for Illumi to spontaneously invite him on a camping trip: a tiny tent, one sleeping bag, something romantic. But he just kept walking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Hisoka said amusedly. Illumi glanced at him again, almost suspiciously, before he returned to walking at Hisoka’s side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we eating?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>picked it out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t remember.” </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dinner was quaint and drifted late into the night. Illumi sipped on a tiny earthen cup of hot sake, which he held in his hands like a baby bird, until his cheeks reddened and the too-sharp movements of his head slowed and smoothed into something more relaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked back to Illumi’s brownstone, which at night, seemed even more empty and unkempt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, on the stoop, they kissed for the first time. Hisoka was a little taller than Illumi, but Illumi made up for it by sliding his hand into Hisoka’s hair and tugging his head down. His mouth tasted warm and sweet, like fruit in the summer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tonight was lovely,” Hisoka said as they pulled apart. Illumi kissed him again, short, chaste, just on the dip of his cupid’s bow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so,” he agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get some sleep,” Hisoka said. It was meant to be casual, weightless, but Illumi’s expression instantly darkened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or don’t sleep,” Hisoka amended. “Stay up forever until you die.” Illumi’s mouth twitched in amusement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I will.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight,” Hisoka said, feeling regretful that he was leaving so soon. They had spent hours together, and he still wanted more. Illumi lingered on the stoop, back up against one of the old stone pillars flanking his door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight,” Illumi said, still standing there. He could do it, probably, ask if he could come inside, just for a nightcap. Illumi would most likely say yes. It didn’t even need to be sex, just more time in Illumi’s presence. Maybe a movie. Maybe they could bake something, brownies, or whatever boxed cake mix Illumi had at the back of his pantry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka's stomach felt weightless at the possibilities. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi was still staring at him, arms folded over his chest, an eyebrow quirked expectantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to text you,” Hisoka said firmly, “and we’re going to do this again, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Illumi said, lip lifting in amusement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was that. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hisoka didn’t hear from Illumi for a few days. It didn’t really worry him. He knew Illumi was ferociously busy, and he did actually have work, despite what his lifestyle suggested. He had worked very hard the first few years to ensure most of his job could be done from home, or at a cafe on his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A week after their date, Hisoka was sprawled out on his couch, freshly showered, trudging through a gauntlet of emails. Gon had texted him a few times, and Kurapika, oddly, had sent him a very terse text asking how things were going with Illumi. A few days ago, Hisoka would have shot back a gleefully smug message about what Illumi’s mouth tasted like. But his confidence was waning and he felt a little bruised about the whole thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone suddenly came to life with a call from an unknown number. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rarely got phone calls. All work-related news came through in text or email. Frowning, Hisoka answered the unknown number. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this Hisoka Morrow?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name’s Milluki Zoldyck.” Hisoka hadn’t met Milluki yet, but he had heard about him from Illumi on their date, and he had learned a bit about him from the internet. He was seventeen, turning eighteen soon, and was living by himself in an apartment paid for by the startup company he was working for. Illumi talked about him in a very proud way. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s the smartest one in our family, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he had said, totally unselfconscious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hello, Milluki. I know your brothers,” Hisoka said.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Milluki said with a wince. “That’s why I was calling. I know you and Illumi have been… spending time together. I was wondering if you could pick him up. Now, preferably.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pick him up?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll send you the address,” Milluki said cryptically. With that, he hung up. Hisoka only had a moment of confusion before a text went through. He recognized the address with a swoop of dread. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Troupe was a very expensive, very exclusive club in the city. The cover charge to get in was astronomical, and even then, paying wasn’t always enough. You had to be on a list. The parameters of the list were vague and determined wholly by a man named Chrollo, who Hisoka had a sneaking suspicion was an adult virgin with aspirations of starting a cult.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka groaned out loud. He grabbed his coat and shoved his feet into sneakers, forgoing socks. His pajama set would have to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka drove without the radio on, a sick feeling building in the pit of his stomach. He could tell by Milluki’s tone that he was probably not going to be pleased with what he saw. Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about their date, about Illumi playing with a loose thread on the sleeve of his sweater, him leaning his weight against the pillar on his stoop and staring at Hisoka with a giddiness that was indescribably young. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to kiss him. Kissing had never been a huge point of excitement for him. It was fine: a precursor to much bigger and greater things. But with Illumi, it felt like something else entirely. He could probably spend an entire night kissing him, exploring the soft of his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he got to the club, he tossed his keys to the valet and asked them to leave his car by the curb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka had been to the Troupe before, and as such, his name was already saved on their database. He cut the line, citing a phone left in the bathroom, and made a beeline for the VIP section of the club, where Illumi undoubtedly was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka had been right to feel sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi had a girl on his lap. He was sprawled on a curved leather sofa. A woman and two men were sitting on the far end, laughing and drinking. An array of expensive alcohol dotted the table. It looked as though Illumi had purchased bottle service. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Illumi,” Hisoka said quietly. The girl on his lap was gorgeous, the kind of girl who dated rappers and quarterbacks, who advertised tea and gummy bear supplements on her instagram. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka watched with a wrinkled nose as Illumi and the girl disconnected, a string of saliva holding their mouths together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi was drunk. His cheeks were red and his eyes were wet and his hair was messy, and still partly tangled in the girl’s fingers. He was also hard in his pants, pants which were unbuttoned and slung very low around his hips. The girl grinded down on him impatiently and he grinded back, dazedly mouthing at her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Illumi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw Illumi stiffen, saw the girl glance at him over her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Hisoka said, shooting him a loveless smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Illumi muttered. Hisoka felt like his skin was on fire. He knew no one was actually looking at him, but the situation felt so </span>
  <em>
    <span>public. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His hands itched and he could tell his cheeks were getting pink and he was so out-of-his-mind resentful of Illumi for doing this to him that he wanted to yell, and he never yelled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t give a shit about this, let’s just go before you do something stupid.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi’s guilty resignation flared up immediately into anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not stupid,” he snapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go,” Hisoka repeated, letting his anger bleed into his voice. He knew they weren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>betrothed, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but everything about this felt like a slap to the face, like Illumi had decided that tonight he would inflict as much damage as he could just for the fun of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the kind of thing Hisoka would do, and that pissed him off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi’s lip lifted into a snarl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off.” His voice was low and slurred. Somewhere, a camera flash went off. This would be in the news tomorrow, Hisoka was sure of it. Illumi was a celebrity and his family was sweating under a very harsh spotlight at the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, get off. He’s one shot away from a blackout,” he said to the bikini model. The girl gave him a baleful look, pin straight hair falling over one side of her face, but she left, still, understanding flitting through her shrewd gaze.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you here?” Illumi demanded, trying to look threatening but failing miserably. He was limp against the couch, mouth half-parted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Milluki called me, said you were embarrassing yourself in a club filled with important people.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They aren’t important, they’re just celebrities,” Illumi muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who was the girl you were qausi-fucking?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The model you had on your lap, Illumi,” Hisoka continued impatiently. Illumi reddened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember her name? Fucking figues. Well, she’s definitely going to remember yours. Have fun with the news cycle tomorrow. I wish you the best.” Hisoka turned to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you came here to get me,” Illumi rasped. Hisoka looked him over. Illumi looked very much like a sad, burnt out rich boy. If Hisoka didn’t know any better, he would have thought Illumi was a spoiled brat who didn’t deserve a cent of his trust fund. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he did know better.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to force you to come with me. If you want to stay and continue to behave like a child, by all means.” Hisoka shrugged his coat back on and this time, really did begin to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hisoka,” Illumi croaked. His lips shined with saliva. “Please take me home.” The girl Illumi had been ravaging prowled in the background. A tall man came up to her and she politely turned him away. Her gaze was on Hisoka, brows lowered pensively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to mine. I’m not going all the way downtown.” Illumi didn’t protest, he just stumbled after Hisoka on unsteady feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They burst into the crisp night air with similar sighs of relief. Hisoka had to support Illumi as they made their way to the idling car he had left on the curb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your car’s ridiculous,” Illumi muttered, glaring balefully at the bright pink sports car. Hisoka heard more camera clicks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get in the car,” he said. “I’m going to get some water for you from the bar.” Illumi grunted and collapsed into the passenger seat, eyes closing in relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same girl was sitting at the bar when Hisoka re-entered the club. She looked him up and down appraisingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You knew who he was?” Hisoka asked tiredly after asking for a to-go cup of ice water and a Sprite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, a Zoldyck,” the girl said, sipping a vodka cranberry. “I didn’t realize he was so…” She gestured to the club, lingering on its sleek, hungry inhabitants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not,” Hisoka said with a grimace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a good kisser,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Hisoka’s expression was sour. The girl cracked a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s whatever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a gossip, you know. There won’t be stories about this in the tabloids tomorrow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka glanced at her, an eyebrow raised, but she kept talking without looking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I probably shouldn’t have even let him kiss me, but he’s hot, and rich, and--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” the bartender said, setting down a cup of water and a Sprite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Hisoka said. “Put it on the Zoldyck tab.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, which one?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s two: an Illumi Zoldyck from tonight and a Silva Zoldyck, still open from two weeks ago.” Hisoka’s eyebrows shot up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Silva Zoldyck, then. Hey, you want anything?” He asked the girl. She knocked back the vodka cranberry and grinned, flashing pinkish teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I get a Rum Blazer?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You drink that too?” Hisoka asked, an eyebrow raising in surprise. He knew that it was one of those cocktails that Illumi liked, a weird combination that he couldn’t quite remember. He took his Sprite and water and held them in one hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t, but Illumi was, and I got a taste of it when we were--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got it,” Hisoka said cheerily. “I’m off.” </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Illumi was still sitting in Hisoka’s car when Hisoka returned, but his forehead was braced against the dash, hands curled into fists in his lap. He looked unwell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drink,” Hisoka commanded. Illumi knocked back the water first and then gingerly sipped the Sprite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This has a lot of sugar,” he muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s soda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you trying to get me fat?” Illumi demanded, looking gravely offended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re messed up, you know that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel sick.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re going to throw up when we get to my place.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t throw up,” Illumi said with a snort. Hisoka grimaced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will.” </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Illumi did throw up, once Hisoka had three fingers down his throat. He cringed as watery vomit sluiced down his arm. Illumi had a vice-like grip on his bicep, but he wasn’t putting too much effort into pulling Hisoka’s hand out of his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You done?” Hisoka asked. Illumi gurgled something, and then he promptly convulsed and vomited again, this time, just stomach bile, nothing left in his stomach to bring up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now you’re done,” Hisoka said with a sigh, letting Illumi’s head drop onto the edge of the toilet. He made a sound of disgust but didn’t actually try to move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, this was one way to get to know someone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who was the girl?” Hisoka asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” Illumi rasped. His hairline shone with sweat and his lips were glazed with a lovely mixture of bile and spit. Whatever remnants of intimidation Illumi used to have were gone, flushed down the toilet with the rest of the vomit Hisoka had got out of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? She was hot,” Hisoka continued, turning on the shower and moving the knob to hot. He held the glass door open and waited for the water to heat up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re angry with me,” Illumi muttered, cheek still squished against the toilet. He looked so miserable it was almost pathetic. Hisoka felt like he’d picked up a stray off the street. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I be angry with you?” Hisoka asked with a sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no right to be angry with you. We went on one date. I wasn’t expecting monogamy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Illumi croaked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you have lots on your plate. You’re stressed. I don’t care what you do about it in your free time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get in the shower,” Hisoka said. “Do you need help?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be outside.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I borrow clothes?” Illumi asked quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Course,” Hisoka said. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He set aside sweatpants and an old over-washed t-shirt, so thin it was nearly see-through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Illumi emerged from the shower, he said nothing, just threw on the clothes and shuffled back into the guest bedroom. Hisoka watched him go and deliberated for a few seconds. He was still mad, could still feel a darkness in the pit of his stomach, but Illumi was so unbearably despondent that it was hard to brush aside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Hisoka said in the doorway. Illumi was sprawled on the bed, hair wet and wavy and all over the place. With the alcohol out of his system, Hisoka could see the husk of him that was left very clearly, too clearly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to sleep with me?” Illumi lifted his head blearily. His eyes were wet with exhaustion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just sleep,” Hisoka warned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Illumi staggered to his feet and followed Hisoka’s light footsteps down the hall to the master bedroom. Hisoka knocked the door open with his shoulder and flicked on the twin wall lamps by the bed, as dim as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gotta shower, you can sleep,” Hisoka said, gesturing to the larger, comfier-looking bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll wait for you,” Illumi replied, collapsing onto one side of the bed, his side, Hisoka noted with a twitch of exasperation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Hisoka emerged from the shower, Illumi was, as expected, passed out. Hisoka threw on underwear--he was doing Illumi a favor, he usually slept naked--and settled into bed. Illumi, his movements thick with sleep, rolled over and threw an arm over Hisoka’s waist. The surprisingly broad expanse of his shoulder was velvety smooth under the cool, barely-there light. Hisoka ran a hand up Illumi’s bicep, squeezing along the muscle there with strong, deft fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Illumi croaked, barely-awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Night,” Hisoka whispered back.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Dinner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hisoka meets the parents.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hisoka didn’t see Illumi for two weeks after, but they texted nearly every day, and once, when Hisoka was watching pasta swirl around a boiling pot of water, Illumi facetimed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fumbled with the phone, answered, and had to immediately bite back a laugh at the sight of a frizzy-haired head, brows lowered in irritation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t respond to my text.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I didn’t see it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I texted you forty-five minutes ago.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I’ll reply right now.” Illumi let the phone dip and Hisoka caught a background of warm slatted wood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sauna,” Illumi said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka didn’t have the energy nor the bravery to point out to Illumi that he was disrespecting the very point of a sauna by sitting in there stressed and on his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He checked his texts and saw that Illumi had indeed texted him, and better yet, it was an invitation to dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka was smiling at Illumi through his phone like Illumi had just told him a secret. He hadn’t responded about dinner yet, he was just smiling, eyes twinkling with slightly-cold mischief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?” Illumi demanded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka did something slightly off camera, a motion that revealed the pink edge of his elbow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d love to do dinner. I hope you intend to woo me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll woo, I’ll seduce, I’ll have you home tonight by eleven.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boo, eleven?” Hisoka half-whined. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a gentleman,” Illumi said, and he sounded like he meant it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, text me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hisoka’s phone buzzed just two hours later and surprisingly, he felt his chest leap at the prospect of Illumi getting back to him so soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, it was a short message from Gon. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The weather is so nice! BEACH!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka sent back: </span>
  <em>
    <span>go with Killua im doing adult stuff </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gon: he’s w illumi -_- and illumi hates me </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hisoka: why’s he with illumi </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gon: the kids switch between illumi’s house and the estate, i guess. It’s illumi’s turn </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hisoka: no beach im busy maybe make other friends </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gon: never!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka switched from his messages to Instagram, idly perusing through his timeline until a post caught his eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was from Killua’s account, his username a dizzying series of numbers and underscores, his profile picture a blurry close-up of Gon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of his forty-four followers, sixteen people had liked the photo, which was a decent ratio, Hisoka thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a selfie: Killua grinning wildly in the foreground, and pretty, pretty Illumi in the back, slouched in a chair, sunglasses on, arms folded, face sour. They were at a cafe, judging by the bistro chairs and the immature ficuses creating a sort of partition between the sidewalk seating area and the rest of the city. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi had three different drinks in front of him and no food. Killua, inexplicably, seemed to be eating a massive sirloin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi looked every part the bitchy eldest sibling who was babysitting because they’d been told to at gunpoint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka was unbelievably fond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the rest of the day, Hisoka played an excruciating game with himself, letting his mind wander into fantasy and then tugging it harshly back by the reins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He showered and thought absently of Illumi sitting on his bathroom counter, watching him with his hair tucked behind his ears. He made himself a drink, pulping mint leaves and thinking of Illumi with a mint leaf paper-mache’d to his tongue. He waded through work and thought of Illumi as the corporate monster he had first assumed he was, thought of him in a tight Thom Browne suit, barking orders into a phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It went like that for an embarrassingly long amount of time. Even as he drawled his way through a staff meeting on the phone, Illumi was on his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When, at nine in the evening, Hisoka’s phone buzzed, he nearly leapt for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dinner’s off. Ill call u later</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka’s eyebrows raised and he barked out a sour laugh. Illumi’s strange, isolated arrogance was all at once so frustrating and appealing that it was driving Hisoka in circles. He set down his phone, picked it up again, and then shook his head incredulously. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hisoka: where are you </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Illumi: im sorry it can’t be tonight ill call you later</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hisoka: thats not what I asked </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka was sent an address twenty minutes later, and he was further incensed to find it was a bar. And not even a very good one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hurriedly got dressed and shot out the door without even checking his hair in the mirror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, do you have a valet?” Hisoka asked, sticking his head out of his car. The waitress on a smoke break gave him a long, dubious look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she said finally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where am I supposed to park?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pointed at the long stripe of unpainted curb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Hisoka got inside, he was briefly accosted by the smell of grain-based alcohol and floor varnish. It was crowded, every booth packed with about two more people than there should have been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi was sitting at the bar, nursing a lowball glass of something, and looking utterly miserable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey there,” Hisoka said stiltedly. He felt suddenly very self conscious, afraid he’d say the wrong thing, as he was prone to, and send Illumi away hissing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” Illumi said, glum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s got you so down?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” he said, and then mumbled something, and shook his head to himself, and took another sip of his drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re very cute but I’m not a patient person.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi glared sideways at Hisoka and Hisoka sat there with a pleasant smile and waited. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Killua and I got in a fight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was interesting. An altercation with his parents left Illumi breathless and high-strung, like a stallion bursting out of a stall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This fight with Killua seemed to have drained the life out of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re you drinking?” Hisoka asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something awful,” Illumi said, staring down at it morosely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I have a sip?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without waiting for an answer, Hisoka gently slid the drink over to him and sniffed it. It smelled like straight single malt scotch, terrible on the nose, in his opinion, and worse on the throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka held onto the drink firmly as Illumi played around with a squeezed-out lime on a plate. </span>
</p><p><span>“What’s even the point?” He asked suddenly, head lifting with exasperation. “They don’t even fucking like me.” </span><span><br/></span> <span>It was a stunning show of self-awareness, something Hisoka didn’t even know Illumi had. </span></p><p>
  <span>“They do sometimes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I give them my credit card and don’t check in for a day.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what they’re used to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi tried to snake his hand between Hisoka’s forearms, to grab at his drink, but the attempt was pathetic and Hisoka had an easy time keeping him at bay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just--” Illumi’s hands tightened into each other. “I feel that there is a right way to do things, and if I don’t do them that way, then I’m wasting--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi’s phone rang and he paused to glance at it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Work?” Hisoka asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Milluki.” With that, Illumi shut his phone off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck him in particular,” he added, face contorting into a fearsome expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are they at your house?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, fucking leeching off me like always. Killua’s probably with Gon, even though I told him not to bring anyone over. Whatever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka pulled out his phone and quietly shot Gon a text: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hisoka: Are you with Killua? Stupid. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gon: yes! Y am i stupid </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hisoka: killua isn’t supposed to be hanging out w you </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gon: oh cuz illumi -_- </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hisoka: be nice </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gon: if ur with him right now, tell him to leave killua alone :/</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hisoka shut off his phone and sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who was that?” Illumi asked, voice sharp with suspicion, even though his eyes were blurred over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My assistant,” Hisoka lied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi’s head dropped against the sticky bar surface and Hisoka cringed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell Gon to tell Killua that if they aren’t asleep by the time I get back, I’ll kill them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will do.” Hisoka sent the text, death threat and all, and put his phone back in his pocket. Illumi’s face was still on the bar, shoulders slumped, arms limp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really pathetic right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you still owe me dinner. Two dinners now, and a handjob.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do they serve food here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Proper dinners, with candles and a live jazz band.” This wrung out a weak laugh from Illumi, his shoulders shaking with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, fine, we’ll do that tomorrow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re paying, and picking me up. And don’t forget what I said about the handjob.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi’s head picked up off the bar, a red circular imprint on his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he rasped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t look so happy with me,” Hisoka said, jabbing his finger into Illumi’s chest. “This is your last chance. You’re a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mess, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you know. Seriously a freak among freaks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” </span>
</p><p><span>“Seriously, when I met you, you were wearing Moncler, you were driving a Bentley. I haven’t seen</span> <span>you in a suit </span><em><span>once </span></em><span>since that day.” </span></p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Illumi said, looking amused now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>And </span>
  </em>
  <span>I can tell you’re wearing a t-shirt under your sweater and I can tell that it’s orange because there’s a hole in the armpit of your sweater.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi checked and made a sound of surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, this is Loewe. I need to get that fixed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, your siblings like you a lot more when you act like their sibling.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And not their frazzled single parent who doesn’t even like them.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t do that, Hisoka.” Illumi’s hair slid forward to cover his face, and irritatedly, he brushed it back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because then they don’t have </span>
  <em>
    <span>parents, </span>
  </em>
  <span>because their actual parents are--” Illumi seemed unable to finish that sentence in his drunkenness, so he just gestured vaguely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we take you home?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No handjob tonight,” Illumi said tiredly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I would want one from you right now,” Hisoka bit back, looking him over with thinly veiled disapproval. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner tomorrow,” Illumi said firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka looked Illumi over and strangely, found nothing motivating him to hold onto his anger. He didn’t even think he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>angry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner tomorrow,” he said with a smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re fucking with me,” Illumi snarled over the phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Killua, for the first time ever, sounded properly cowed. His voice came in low and regretful over the car speakers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi took a sharp turn and Hisoka cringed as his mouth wateringly expensive undercarriage scraped against a curb. Illumi drove his car like he was in a video game. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I texted mom and she said if you drive over now, she’ll have my bag waiting at the gate.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, she fucking won’t,” Illumi hissed. He looked nice: black pants, dark sweater, leather sandals that looked subtly designer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hair was tied back but the knot kept getting looser and looser, more strands falling out to frame his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently, they had reservations somewhere very nice, much nicer than Illumi’s outfit suggested, but Hisoka had learned that was kind of Illumi’s thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You owe me, Killua, big time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know, I’m sorry. But I don’t know what else to do. I can’t do my work without it.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, bye.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi hung up the phone and casted Hisoka a regretful look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The universe doesn’t want us to go to dinner,” he said. Hisoka leaned back in his seat and propped his feet up on the dash, smiling contentedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, I like the drama. Does this mean I get to meet your parents on the first date?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is going to be awful,” Illumi muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Parents </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great.” </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Zoldyck estate was hard to quantify in any real terms. It was hidden from the world by a thirty-foot hedge that Hisoka was certain cost about as much to maintain as a brand new house in a nice neighborhood would be. The front entrance was a massive black wrought-iron gate that reminded Hisoka of old movies and british period pieces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a winding driveway which Illumi drove on with such familiar ease that hisoka wouldn’t be surprised if he could do it with his eyes closed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then they were spilled onto a circular driveway, complete with a fountain and a cobbled stone floor and rose bushes everywhere. Like a hotel in Monaco. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi opened the car door without grabbing the keys and peered over the top of the hood. Hisoka could hear barking, loud, thunderous barking, and the frantic scrabble of paws on the cobblestone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ,” Illumi said with audible disdain as two massive black dogs launched themselves at him. For all their size, it was easy to see they were still puppies, wheezing with over-excitement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi regarded them for a few seconds and then his mouth tightened and he slammed his car door shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Mike?” Illumi asked. Kikyo was running towards the car as best she could in her heels, squealing in delight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Illumi! Darling! Come inside, bring your guest!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hisoka, right? I remember you. You’re so </span>
  <em>
    <span>tall!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom--” Illumi started again, his voice nearly cracking. Silva came round the back of the house with his hair in a low ponytail and a dark blue polo shirt on and the dogs shot off to meet him, yelping in delight. As he walked, they followed him, matching his step perfectly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Illumi, you’re here early. I was just about to head to the club for a round of golf.” His voice was even, but he was standing a good few feet away from where Kikyo was clutching Illumi, and even further from Hisoka. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Mike?” Illumi asked again, pulling away from Kikyo’s embrace. Kikyo glanced rapidly at Silva and smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go inside, yeah?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just need Killua’s school bag.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got a new car,” Silva said, glancing back over his shoulder as they walked into the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Illumi said shortly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t mind if I give it a test-drive, do you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka tried his very hardest not to react to the inside of the Zoldyck house. He was starting to realize why Illumi’s place looked the way it did. It, like most things Illumi did, seemed to be a highly calculated, but still somehow sub-conscious, attempt to rebel against his parents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The foyer itself was massive, dominated by a family portrait that looked about five or six years old. Illumi’s hair was shorter and his face was a little rounder. Killua looked to be in the early stages of elementary school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kikyo looked the same, hands folded in her lap as she smiled serenely ahead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom,” Illumi said again as he kicked off his shoes, like he was on autopilot. Hisoka followed his lead, but he noticed Silva and Kikyo did not do the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything around him was polished, like an interior design magazine had just come to take pictures. Kikyo kept brushing her hand over furniture as she walked, musing that they just had this imported, or that she was still making her mind up about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a coffee table,” Silva said, eyes warm with fondness. Kikyo turned on him and smiled almost devilishly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>art, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Silva.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will take your word for it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are so stubborn, you know that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They kissed, Silva’s mouth to Kikyo’s cheek, and Illumi looked away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where,” he tried again, “is Mike.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silva and Kikyo looked at each other again and Hisoka caught Kikyo’s sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s sit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sitting room, where they had been steered into, was plastered with an expensive-looking floral wallpaper. The crown molding was painted a deep, bottom-of-the-ocean blue, and there was a thick, oversized persian carpet on the floor. Kikyo and Silva dropped onto the sofa and waited for Illumi and Hisoka to do the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka took a chair situated under a bronze reading lamp and watched as Illumi slowly curled up on the matching one on the other side of a tiny little side table that had a candle and a picture of Killua holding a fish while on a boat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was an old dog,” Kikyo said carefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka felt dread sink to his stomach like silt in a lake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should have told me,” Illumi hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka was still reeling every so slightly. He could piece it together pretty well: Mike had been his dog, the dog in the photos on his mantle. He had seen a young Illumi holding him as a puppy, kissing at his fur with delight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was an old dog,” Silva said this time, leaning back and raising an eyebrow as Illumi dug his nails into the fabric of the chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was suffering. You know how long dogs live. You were off ruining our reputation in the name of belated teenage rebellion, all the while, he was getting older.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should have called me,” Illumi snapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kikyo was staring at her hands, silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should I call you at the first snow of November, Illumi?” Silva asked coolly. “Should I call you when the tulips bloom in March? How about when strawberries come back in season? Maybe I should call you for all of life’s inevitabilities while I’m at it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka cocked his head in disbelief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was his dog,” he said dumbly, because he felt dumb right now. Things were starting to fall into place, rapidly, all at once. It felt like an avalanche was burying him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things about Illumi, yes, but things about Killua, too. And if Hisoka had to guess, the other three children were much the same. No one had escaped the bitter kiss of Zoldyck child rearing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about you call </span>
  <em>
    <span>us?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kikyo demanded shrilly, bursting with sudden emotion. Her eyes were wet and her mouth was trembling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You care more about a dog than keeping our family together! Ripping your siblings away from their mother and father for attention in a magazine, for your pride! For Christ’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>sake, </span>
  </em>
  <span>get a new dog, Illumi!” She spat out the last bit with a warbling soprano.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka was waiting for the resulting explosion, for Illumi to snap like Hisoka knew he was capable of, but he was just sitting there, eyes wide and chest heaving like a rabbit under the shadow of a hawk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Illumi,” Kikyo said quietly, leaning across the gap between them and sighing like she was in anguish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll put in a call to our beeder and see about getting you a puppy, just as good as Mike, yeah? In the meantime, the two new dogs we have are </span>
  <em>
    <span>excellent. </span>
  </em>
  <span>So well trained, you wouldn’t believe it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I take them hunting, sometimes,” Silva added, voice light and airy. “They’re quick as anything. We should give them a run tomorrow morning.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi was still silent, the only movement being the tremble of his own hair from his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really good dogs,” Kikyo said with a winning smile. Silva matched it, smaller, more contained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m--” Illumi seemed startled by the crack in his own voice. “I’m gonna get Killua’s bag. We’re supposed to--um, go to dinner.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you should have told us, Illumi! We could have gotten you in somewhere special!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mother and I went to Republique the other day and it was very nice.” Silva had his hands folded in his lap and a gentle smile on his face, but he was leaned a little too far in his chair and he was staring Illumi down like it was a competition. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi shoved his hands in his pockets quickly and trudged out of the room with his head bowed, presumably to find Killua’s bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Kikyo said faintly. “That went better than I expected.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silva rubbed tiredly at his chin, eyes flitting up to watch Hisoka as he stood from his chair, smiled disdainfully at the pair of them, and then strode off after Illumi, two black dogs on his heels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No sooner had he reached the foyer that Illumi was walking back, dragging a purple tie dye backpack behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go,” he said tightly, shouldering open the door without acknowledging his parents, who were still in the sitting room, heads close together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a sick way, Hisoka found the pair of them a little bit charming.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He obediently followed Illumi out into the big circular driveway, smiling humorlessly at the sound of excitable pawsteps in the background. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fountain at the center, surrounded by neatly-trimmed shrubbery, gurgled in a way that reminded Hisoka of a restaurant he went to in Italy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi made it all the way to his car before he was accosted by the dogs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck’s--” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He didn’t finish his sentence. With arousingly quick reflexes, Illumi snatched one of the dogs by the collar and squatted in front of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi stared it in the face, his hand white-knuckled as he held the collar. The dog’s tail wagged hopefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not the dog’s fault,” Hisoka said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Illumi replied quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could still feed it rat poison, though.” Hisoka saw Illumi’s head duck as he bit back a laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not funny,” he said, the waver of his voice suggesting otherwise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want some rat poison? Hm, do ya?” Hisoka said in a high, cheery voice. The dog’s tail wagged even faster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go,” Illumi said, finally letting go of the dog’s collar. It didn’t move for a while, expecting affection, maybe, but Illumi gave it a look that sent it trotting off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I drive?” Hisoka asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Illumi said, sighing immediately after as Hisoka opened the driver’s seat door and sat down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we grab food?” Hisoka tried to keep his voice even, without a hint of accusation. Illumi was still sidling into the passenger seat, gazing emptily at the dashboard. Their dinner plans were an extinct thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he said to himself, voice dry and bottomless with grief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get some food.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The kids are at home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The kids are at home. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They sounded like </span>
  <em>
    <span>parents. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to get home like this,” he explained a moment later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you want to be home, don’t you?” The question seemed to shrink Illumi into something very small. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he admitted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll go to a drive through, make it quick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Illumi got home, he dropped the food they had picked up for the children in the kitchen and then went straight upstairs and slammed the bedroom door behind him. It echoed all through the house. Alluka, halfway up the steps, turned and trotted back down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave him,” she said, sliding down the hall in socked feet. Hisoka followed her uneasily into the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Milluki, Killua, and Alluka were clustered around the island, picking at the french fries absently. Milluki was on his phone, dictating a text with a french fry in his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three floors above them, there was a loud crashing sound: Illumi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave him,” Killua said flatly, eerily identical to what Alluka had said just moments earlier. Milluki muttered something and dropped on the couch, taking a carton of french fries with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let him throw his tantrum. He cools down eventually.” Alluka glanced sideways at Milluki like she disagreed, but she didn’t say anything more. Hisoka was starting to see it, the noxious radiation zone that was the Zoldyck family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of you said anything about the dog,” Hisoka said. “Too scared?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Silva told us not to,” Killua said, looking reproachful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you listen to everything your father tells you, don’t you.” Hisoka was feeling fearsome. He had just wanted to have some good sex, but he could feel himself get pulled in, a tentacle named Illumi wrapping around his ankle and dragging him deeper and deeper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We got new dogs,” Milluki said with a flap of his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the point,” a silent-up-until-then Kalluto said. The youngest Zoldyck child was curled up at the far end of the couch, a battered copy of a sci-fi novel held between his knees. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ILLUMI</span>
  </em>
  <span> was written along the spine in faded sharpie, the ink purple with age. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s overreacting like he does with everything,” Milluki hissed, years of resentment building in his voice. Killua glanced at his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His dog died, bro.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sensing this was something he wouldn’t win, Milluki huffed to himself and went back on his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a few tense seconds, there was silence, and then Milluki stood up with a frustrated sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>ask </span>
  </em>
  <span>if this was what we wanted.” Hisoka understood instantly that this was about the custody battle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like yeah they </span>
  <em>
    <span>suck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but now he’s putting us through all this shit and he’s probably not even going to win. And we can’t all fit in this shitty fucking house.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalluto, who Hisoka was realizing had a tighter rein on perspective than most children his age, sucked in the air through his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to be eighteen in a few months,” he pointed out. “And you already have your own apartment.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wish Illumi had put some more thought into this, instead of going on some crazy bender and trying to dismantle our fucking family out of pride.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not pride,” Alluka half-shouted, tears suddenly appearing in her eyes. Milluki turned on her, his lovely-shaped eyes crushed with frustration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka fiddled with the cuff on his sleeve in an attempt to look busy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you enjoying life right now, week to week being bounced back and forth between houses? Illumi doesn’t even have </span>
  <em>
    <span>time </span>
  </em>
  <span>for us in between fucking his new boyfriend--” Not yet but Hisoka was optimistic. “And trying to win this stupid hopeless custody battle!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Killua, who had been trying to melt into the couch like an ice cube, finally stood up and ushered Kalluto and Alluka out of the living room, giving Milluki once last glare, as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Milluki seethed in the center of the carpet and looked close to tears, and though Hisoka couldn’t understand it, what had happened and what was happening to him now, he could see why his anger was directed at Illumi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poor, beautiful, clueless Illumi, smart in about two ways, hopeless in every other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka was not surprised that Illumi went into this custody issue with all the grace of a newly-dropped foal; except, Illumi at his most graceless was still a terrifying machine of competence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And this was a very bad thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Milluki glared at Hisoka through a film of tears and then stalked in the direction that the other children had gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka looted the rest of Milluki’s fries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour later, Illumi came slinking down the stairs with wet hair and a pair of bleach-stained sweats on. He glided into the kitchen like a ghost and rolled up the sleeves of the orange sweatshirt he was wearing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you leave anything for me?” He rasped, poking his head into the living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka looked up from the couch and blinked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s food on the island. I can get it for you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Illumi said faintly. He dipped back into the kitchen and Hisoka heard the rustle of paper fast food bags being opened and tipped over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without the children, the house had reverted to its old mausoleum-like self. It felt dark and overly formal, uncomfortable and filled with unnecessary furniture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi sat down on the couch with an armful of fast food, propping his feet up on the coffee table. It was actually a low, wooden media console that had been poorly repurposed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feeling better?” Hisoka asked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good enough for a round of fast, hot sex, perhaps? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi grunted through a trio of french fries in his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Milluki’s angry at you,” Hisoka added. Illumi snorted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They all are,” he said after a minute. “Even Alluka.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka hummed. Illumi’s cheeks were unnaturally red, like he had scrubbed them very hard in the shower. His orange sweatshirt had hiked up to reveal a stripe of midriff: narrow, taut belly button, the dark hair trailing his navel, the squish of skin where his stomach folded as he sat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m probably going to go to bed,” Illumi said flatly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi stood up and then glanced down at Hisoka, looking momentarily confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m coming?” Hisoka leaned back against the couch cushions and raised an eyebrow and smiled and began to feel like his old self again: jovial and cruel and adolescent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi’s mouth twitched in amusement, an expression Hisoka was sure would have ended or started with laughter if he had been in a better mood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guiltily, like children, they scrambled up the stairs to Illumi’s bedroom and fell asleep with their clothes on, legs tangled together, breaths puffing in slightly harmonious intervals, conducted by some precious respiratory metronome.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Illumi woke first, rolling onto his stomach only to be startled by coming face-to-face with a still-sleeping Hisoka. He was an entirely different person asleep, not just Hisoka-with-his-eyes-closed, but a Hisoka finally at rest, no fidgeting, no glancing, no smiling. There was a hint of scruff on his jaw and some peeling skin on the tip of his nose. The morning light washed out his brows and the hollows of his lids. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi stared for what he was sure was too long, eyes blinking with soft discovery, a child with their nose pressed to an aquarium wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then his personal phone buzzed urgently, and he regretfully rolled back and answered it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” His eyes were barely open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Zoldyck, do you want to reschedule our call?” Illumi shot awake. His personal lawyer, the one he was using for the custody situation, was an older man, esteemed, but private. Zeno had slid his number to Illumi during a very tense family dinner and Illumi had been surprised to find him very tolerable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>More than tolerable, actually. Easy to work with, unruffling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, now’s fine. Let me just get downstairs, sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, don’t be. I know you young people are sleeping until noon nowadays.” Illumi resented that. If he’d been on his usual schedule, he’d be coffee’d and fresh from a workout by eight, but he didn’t say anything to be contrary, just dumbly shuffled into his closet and pulled on a robe, and then dumbly trudged down the stairs to his office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready?” His lawyer asked pleasantly. Illumi stared down at the dizzying assortment of papers that covered his desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready,” he said faintly. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hisoka woke up hours later to an empty bed and the sound of Milluki’s video games echoing up from two floors below. Illumi was shut in his office, so he took a leisurely shower, borrowed some clothes from Illumi’s closet, and trotted down the stairs in a surprisingly good mood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost as if he’d been laid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You get laid?” Milluki asked sourly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gross,” Killua said emphatically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kalluto and Alluka didn't say anything but the latter smiled into her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Hisoka said primly. They were sat in a row, like ducklings, all eating bowls of cereal. Five different cereal boxes were lined up on the kitchen counter, and Hisoka was briefly confused about it until he saw that Killua’s bowl was an ungodly combination of three different cereal flavors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did Illumi say you could stay here?” Killua asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t say anything. I think he’s on a call.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figures.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys have school, or something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I drive myself. I have a car,” Milluki said with a sniff. “The littles all ride together with a driver.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” Hisoka said mildly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a job, or something?” Milluki asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do, actually. I’m just a really good delegator, unlike your brother.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While that was true, Milluki’s question did make Hisoka painfully aware of all the work he’d been neglecting. He had thirty emails unread on his phone, and about seven missed calls, and as someone who kept up on those matters with an almost religious zeal, it was making him sweat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We gotta go,” Kalluto said, checking his wristwatch. The plastic pink and green thing had tiny detailing that was too small for Hisoka to see. It looked like a little kid item, but the way that Kalluto checked it, one eye half-squinted as if it were analog--it was digital--made him seem like the picture of adulthood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The children slipped out of Illumi’s weird house like they were never there and Hisoka was left alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He considered going home, very briefly, but decided against it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he called his poor assistant back and put her on speaker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you have a family emergency to explain why you’ve been missing my calls.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sounded frazzled, but then, she always did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not my family emergency, if that counts. Can you go to my apartment and grab my computer and bring it to this address? I’m texting you, hold on. Also, bring any paperwork from the office that needs my signature.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His assistant sighed, long and loud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a lot on my plate, you know--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then </span>
  <em>
    <span>quit</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t even say that,” his assistant said darkly. “Bye.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all her complaining, she routinely did everything he asked her to with ease. Forty minutes later he had a laptop and a stack of papers to read and a piping hot flat white from his favorite coffee shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had just started to rain, lashing the windows in great, wet volleys. The wind was blowing hard enough that the old bones of Illumi’s house were starting to groan and shift. Every step on the floorboards made a horror-movie-squeal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka took up a spot in the painfully underutilized window seat in the front sitting room of the house. This was where the boxes of cases files were stacked high like a city diorama: countless skyscrapers of brown cutting a strange, unearthly silhouette against the wallpaper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka set himself up on that window seat with a cup of Illumi’s expensive African tea, turned the lone floor lamp on, and thought absently about how much it would cost to bring an interior designer in here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Upstairs, Illumi’s voice filtered through with vacillating volume. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“... I know, yeah, I know…. Won’t be too hard for them, will it? If it’s about making me look bad, they won’t have to dig very deep… honestly doubt Killua would be very useful… kind of hates me…” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard his footsteps on the stairs, stuttered and slow, like was distracted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka wasn’t sure what he imagined Illumi wore when he was working from home, in the very least, jeans and a smart sweater, </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe </span>
  </em>
  <span>a button-down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Illumi reached the ground floor and drifted by the front sitting room, blissfully unaware of Hisoka’s presence, Hisoka saw he was in a pair of track pants and a tie dyed rainbow t-shirt that was tattered to the point that the holes almost looked purposeful. He was barefoot, and with his hair up in a bun and his pant hems dragging along the floor, he looked a bit like a very progressive youth pastor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka saw the kitchen lights flick on--lights were necessary with how soupy and dark it was outside, even despite the daytime hour. Illumi was still on the phone, still chattering away at his lawyer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hisoka found himself endlessly amused at how different Illumi was now to the person he’d thought he was upon their meeting. It wasn’t necessarily disappointing, and it was probably a good thing that he wasn’t the cool, impossibly put-together arbitration lawyer he had first met at Gon’s house, probably good that he went to clubs and hated his siblings and found nothing wrong with saving fast food french fries for later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was like an especially dainty frat boy, gliding around his decrepit old house in too-big sweatsuits, shuffling into the kitchen to pilfer slices of cheese from his fridge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illumi hadn’t seen Hisoka’s text, or thought much of his presence in his house, really. The man seemed to observe only his own whims, and Illumi didn’t mind that at all. It was why he was so surprised to see him all set up in his sitting room, typing away at his laptop. Despite the awful weather, a bit of light was filtering in from Illumi’s leaf-covered windows, painting him in abstract shapes of watery light, like a pool reflection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hair, unstyled and the palest iteration of it’s usual pink-red that Illumi had ever seen, looked incredibly soft. His mouth was parted, brows furrowed, the picture of concentration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Illumi said, still a little startled. Hisoka looked up and smiled, warm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought I’d get some work done.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can stay. We can order something for lunch, because I have no food.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surprise, surprise,” Hisoka sang. Illumi’s mouth twisted in amused indignation, but he didn’t press it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry my house is such a mess,” he added, suddenly self-conscious. Even at his least put-together, Hisoka made Illumi’s living room look like a storage room in a baseball stadium. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to get you an interior designer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get to it,” Illumi said with a wave. Hisoka made a high, doubtful nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise I will. I’ve got to get back to work. It won’t be long, though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be here,” Hisoka said serenely. Their eyes met and Hisoka’s mild amusement faded into something much more serious, much more turbulent. Nothing had happened last night as they shared a bed, but it felt like a sure thing, and even now, Illumi didn’t think it would be out of the ordinary if he pressed himself against Hisoka and latched his mouth to his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a sudden lull in the rain that made Illumi overly aware of his own breathing, and then the downpour returned and he stumbled up the stairs like he was elderly. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>as always, thanks so much for reading! comments seriously keep me writing :') </p><p>apologies for the delay in updates, i've had my hands full with a lot of my other fics!</p><p>until the next update, peace!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>as always, thank you so much for reading! comments are my life's blood!</p><p>until the next update, peace!</p><p>my twitter is here: https://twitter.com/illumitheillest :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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